There was something that needed to be done. Rykerri's time here was swiftly running out, and if she was to make any iota of change in this pack, she had to start here. She no longer had the physical strength to keep hold of them by force, and couldn't even train them in the ways she was used to.

But before she could pass along any of her sound knowledge, there was a rift she needed to fix. It was deeper than any crevasse that divided their rocky mountain home - and far more dangerous, too. At first, she'd thought it best to skirt around the subject of the Gods. Let bygones be bygones, let each wolf believe what they must. And it still wasn't her intention to disrupt that: but for all those who were willing, she wanted to open a dialogue. No one would be forced to stay - but anyone causing trouble would most certainly be asked to leave. This was a safe space for them to talk about their feelings. It was time for the pack to grow up and face their demons, and hopefully find some common ground.

She bowed her head and said a little prayer to Hoshiko - the one Goddess she still had perfect faith in. "My wolves may speak harshly. I won't ask them to bite their tongue - this is a place of healing, I need them to speak freely here. Please, keep us safe from the ears of the Gods who would strike them down for blasphemy." Her voice lowered further, and she looked to the side. "Rebel is not godless," she murmured.

With that, she called to her pack, the intent of her meeting clear in her mind.

Not mandatory - Rykerri is hosting a discussion about the Gods, so the pack can get their feelings off their chest and begin to heal. No need to show up if your character doesn't really care about the Gods, but they can come if they want to learn about the pack's feeling in general.

She had not been planning on arriving. In fact, she had been planning on staying behind, finding a dank hovel to grow her plants in, to grow her poisons, to mix her ichors and poultices-- to grow her array of witchy brews.

But she was intrigued. Besides, in her mind, she still had something to make up for-- and this would be an opportune time to explore and examine those others that may have caused her....issues. It provided her a chance to learn their routines, to learn their beliefs and how cautious or incautious they were-- and how easy or difficult it would be to be rid of them, if she must.

And so, with these thoughts in mind, she arrived, silent sans her breathing, dark eyes heavy and staring towards the aging alphess, expectant.

To discuss about the Gods so openly was not a common thing amongst his life. He had never doubted what he knew of Haya and the other Gods, and his faithfulness would not allow him to think otherwise. He prayed, when he was alone (and had prayed with Seacca sometimes when he was a kid), but his words were probably whispers in the wind that the other Rebels could hear if they cared to. Claymore loved the Gods, just as much as he loved Bjorn, Seacca, Svana, Tinuviel -- and so many other people who had made his life fun and worth living. He had came because he was curious about the others and how they felt for the Gods. And he promised he would not grow infuriated by those who might say ill of them.

To talk of them. The gods and goddesses whom they all so fiercely detested (in her own mind, anyway) was an unusual thing. It was far out of the ebony child's comfort zone, for as far as she was concerned, it was the gods who had stolen her sister. Enchanted by something greater, something higher than their own, Althea had been whisked away to that place of cold and ice. The very thought of abandoning her home in favour of a place controlled by beings some were not even sure of left a bitter taste in her mouth. Titania was angry. Furious, even. The wounds were fresh, and if one were to reason with her otherwise, she'd have laughed in their face.

Still, she arrived promptly, not wishing to repeat past mistakes of lateness, and weaves through the crowd a bristling girl of rage and built up frustration. Usually, she could contain her emotions with a calculating mask, but today she is too angry, too frustrated. The sight of Claymore does little to temper these emotions, rather inflame it, and a bigger snarl twists ebony lips as she glowers over at the young man. "What are you doing here, elemental? Coming to speak of your precious gods to the Rebels? You don't understand us". Venomous words spill forth, ending in a bitter laugh that rings clearly throughout their gathering. Usually she is not this cruel, but it is all this pent up anger that needs a source to be directed at, and what better target than the former Storm member? Finally calming her seething, she shots a glower over his way and weaves through the crowd to sit and wait for her other pack mates to arrive.

The festival. She briefly recalls something similar having happened before in her youth, but she can't remember it at the top of her head. She had still been very young - but she does remember climbing while the gods watched over her. Her heart and mind had been raised on fire at the time. The thought brings a smile to her face - where had the time gone? Joining the group of Rebel, she sits off her mothers side. Bumping her shoulder briefly before taking her place. Captivated blue eyes look at the stardust that gathers around their ankles. It's touch is soothing - like a lullaby almost as it keeps her calm among the group of people she had yet to really meet. She listens to the girl younger than her, and feels the need to roll her eyes but decides against it. She finds the statement funny since the girl's alpha had been of the elemental type. She recognizes the Storm boy but can't remember his name for the life of her. Perhaps he happened to remember her. She smiles slightly before waiting to see what the meeting had been about. Taking any cues from her other that she could.

Kite has arrived and is near her mother's side, reminiscing on her last sdf

He'd come to the Festival, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to get away. Creed was gone. It was final. The den they'd nearly shared together was stagnant of her whimsical scent, and his howls went unanswered. He'd been abandoned. Again. The thought alone made the young brute nearly tremor with fury. And sadness. And hate. And love, though this went unnamed as he mourned her absence. With Creed gone, Nox dead and the elemental woman leading Rebel, Valerian was lost. Not the quaint, purposeless feeling, but the one that shattered the soul. That made him question the very essence of his being, of his purpose. The boy had yelled into the night, begging for answers while simultaneously refusing to hear them. They left. They all always leave. Valerian had nothing but Rebel, and what was him home now, save a haven for wolves skirting heathenism?

With little motivation and even less desire, the young teen made his way through the torrential rain. He'd avoided the mass of the gathering, instead opting to glower at them all perched atop a knoll. This had been his plan. The soft murmurs of conversation distracted him enough from his too-loud mind, and it was enough to bring him a small percentage of comfort. At least, until Rykerri called them. Her intent was clear, and the thought of it brings a sneer onto his tattered lips. He debated ignoring it, but a little voice pushed him forward. Even if he said nothing, it would be good to know who was truly a Rebel, and who was a farce.

His loping frame makes little sound as he enters the small grouping, looking every bit as beastly as he felt. Acidic eyes scan the gathered, disgust lingering as he passes over Claymore, and he pauses at Titania's outburst. (And hides the grin, too.) The boy chooses a lonesome spot some feet away from the rest, and settled his abrasive gaze on Rykerri. Valerian had already said everything he wanted about the gods, and there is nothing but conflict in his glaring eyes. But he would be silent, and listen. At least, for now.

ARE YOU READY FOR THE HELLHOUND;
Stardust festival. Another one. It wasn't a time that made her feel completely comfortable, an event that forced her to reminisce on a life she could have had, a life she should have. A time where worshiping the Gods was encouraged, and even though every bone and cell in her body begged her to defy it; she attended every time with the intentions of socialization over anything else. Sure, she gave her bit to the feast, a dead rodent she'd splattered across the bottom of the ridge gates on her way to the Serene that morning, but she wasn't there to chat about the Gods. She was there to meet up with family she'd lost sight of in other times of the year, a reunion she looked forward to above all else. It is Rykerri's call that catches her off guard in the afternoon sunlight, the snow dusting the top most layer of the serene fields had already wound its way into her fur and caked her in its' ivory existence. Though she hesitates; she finally brings herself to where some of her pack had gathered, though she seems displeased about it. Her hackles are raised, brushing snow from her shoulders and spine as she slinks in, her tail held aloft as its' quills spike proudly. This new alpha of theirs, the one Nox had brought in and let take over, wanted to talk about feelings? Charlotte was no coward, but she would not let Rykerri try and brainwash her pack, not after all they had achieved as a unit. Her head lowers as she stalks forth, a look most knew well if they knew her at all, the panther of the ridge, a shadow, a demon, the walk of the undead. She is skeletal and muscular all at once, and the way she rolls her shoulders has bones protruding where perhaps they shouldn't have.
She arrives in a flurry of dark fur and acidic green eyes, and though there are others there; she is by her daughters side first. "Titania," her voice is thick with an unsettled emotion; a warning, though she'd not scold the child in front of all these people. Claymore was trying, or so Charlotte believed, and until he acted otherwise she would not act against him. But still; she didn't like the kid. Her lips curl as she aims a nip at her daughters flank, a shove meant to throw her off the current way she was facing; to reset her mind. She knew why she was hurting, and it hurt her as well, but they were stronger than that. Giant paws take her to the edge of those gathered, to Valerian, where Charlotte takes up a seat next to him with a grumbling growl, vibrating deep within her throat. Her ears swoop back to pin against her skull before relaxing just slightly, and finally her gaze lands on Rykerri with a look that is both expectant and wary. What was becoming of Rebel?

And would she allow it?

doop...Charlotte's here.

I am the wild one tame me now
running with wolves and i'm on the prowl

He came, of course. He came because this was the type of discussion important to him. Bjorn was no god-hater, like the silly brother. He had great respect for this mystrious creatures, but never learned enough of them. From Valerian's words, he undestood that the Divines were cruel beings filled with the powers of nature about to destroy the world and only do favors for those they like. But the situation was not that horrible.

In that day, that Nox died, he could fell the real power some of the Gods bare. Of bringing peace to the soul. Of giving options for the livings. Rykerri decided to stay, and he was glad about that, but since that fateful day, the ebony boy could not stop thinking about... WHat really are this gods. He was just a few steps after Charlotte when came to the meeting area, spotting first, of course, he loved boy Claymore. The next task was hard and painful for his heart. but he ignored the presence of the sibling Valerian, walking by the group forming near Rykerri to sit by his mate's side, touching his cheek with the muzzle, as always. This is the kind of subject that interests the young boy.

He wants to learn more, know more. Kill his doubts. And maybe... Forget his fear about the elemental powers and their divinity. Yes, Bjorn was afraid. Since his first moments of life, he had panic of elementals. He denied the invite to join Storm because of that. His parents... He rember. They died by a thunderstorm. Maybe was not a storm wolf's fault, but since the childhood that was the only thing he could connect with. But maybe, if the mother and father were alive... Maybe Bjorn would never met Vim and Valerian. Or even Claymore. Desnity... Destiny is funny.

Famine arrived first. Rykerri could never quite manage to gauge her, but she got the feeling the woman wouldn't have much to say immediately. She was glad to see Claymore arrive - he was one of the ones he wanted here; but also the others, to hear his words. He'd be safe here, and she hoped he'd feel as much, and be able to speak openly.

A young girl - who she'd come to understand was of Charlotte's brood - came in spitting hatred. Rykerri lifted her lips into a warning snarl, stomping her foot on the ground. "That sort of attitude will not be tolerated here," she snapped, but tried to calm herself, letting her hackles settle against her back once more. "I want everyone to be able to express their views here - and that includes you. But statements directly attacking other people aren't appropriate in a place for mature discussions. They're not... conducive to reaching an understanding," she recited, not entirely sure what 'conducive' meant, but the Northern Monks had talked about it one time - a session where she'd been particularly keen to listen, in an effort to stifle her temper. Even now, it was a skill she hadn't mastered, but she'd never stop trying - not even when she breathed her last breath.

Charlotte had arrived, and seemed to soothe the child a little, but didn't seem to chide her for her words. Rykerri certainly wasn't happy about Titania verbally attacking one of their members. No matter where someone came from, it didn't give anyone the right to shut them out. She hoped Charlotte wasn't teaching her kids to act this way, or Rebel's future would be in peril indeed.

Valerian had also arrived - another wolf she'd hoped to see. Really, it was the conflict between the two brothers and the Storm immigrant that had sparked all this. Gently she called out to Valerian, far away as he was sat. "Come join our circle, Valerian. Are you not one of the pack? Are you not a Rebel?" For that was the true message she wanted to share today: that they were all one pack, regardless of their beliefs.

Bjorn's arrival completed their little band, and with that she was quite happy to begin. She remained seated, trying to instil an atmosphere of calm. In fact, if anyone showed particular agitation, she had a little trick up her sleeve to deal with it. "I want to thank everyone who is here. The fact you came at all shows that you must have some reason for being here, even if it's not obvious to you. Maybe it's just curiosity, or something left unsaid that you didn't even know was eating away at you, or just the need for closure. But everyone here is welcome to say their part - on one condition. You must promise to respect every individual who's here. These are your packmates. To be in conflict with them, even when given an opportunity to resolve that conflict, is to disgrace yourself and your pack."

"You may think Rebel is about physical strength. But you all prove every day that strength in battle isn't the only thing that's important. Rebel did not get strong just because of its warriors - it is the strength of our convictions, our beliefs, that keep us going whether a battle is won or lost."

"If you want a history lesson, there's a lot I can tell you about Rebel and its wars. You may look at me and see a frail old woman, but I can teach you more than you'd ever believe. There's a reason I'm still around. Don't you forget that." She was getting a bit off topic - but it was something that needed to be addressed. These wolves had never seen her in action; her scar-ridden pelt was the only evidence of the hardships she'd powered through in her life.

"So. With the promise of respect fresh in your minds, I open up the floor. Tell us about your life, your beliefs - your experience with the Gods - especially in light of recent events at the Ridge." She wouldn't skip over Nox's death. It was an important part of their feelings towards the Gods, including all the events that led to that tragic day. She looked to them all, hesitating a moment on the two brothers, wondering if they might start the conversation.

Gonna say let's go for no posting order for now, but try to let at least 2-3 people post in between each of your own posts, and if any kind of argument breaks out then please go back to a posting order cos someone might want to get something in! I'll try to guide by slotting in my own posts.

She was late perhaps, a shadow blending into the background of snow. Just another instance in which the gods could toy with them. Somewhat reluctantly she moved forward and sat beside Charlotte as Rykerri started to talk. To explain their life and their faith or lack there of. She hesitated. Charlotte knew her.... or enough. Did she have to reveal the rest to them; to all of them? And yet they were supposed to be her family If not them; then who? Very well. She did not stand; this was not some schoolroom presentation given to the class. It was simply a way to try and get to know her new family. "I'm Dismay Domine. My bloodline is cursed by the gods of doutaini thanks to something an ancestor did to piss them off. I believe the gods exist; I just don't think they care... it'd be like us worrying about stepping on ants. Their sense of morality; of time must surely be skewed and I'm curious as to what would happen if the whole of Doutaini stopped believing in them. Would they then cease to exist?" She stopped talking a moment, her thoughts shifting. "I think they exist; but I do not trust them." They had done nothing to give her any faith that they had the best interest of the wolves of doutaini at heart. Nothing to indicate that they saw her as anything other than an extension of her blood; cursed by the actions of a wolf she never even knew and wasn't even alive at the same time as whatever offense it was that her ancestor had done. Truly, a fair and just set of gods indeed.

More members arrive, but the ebony robed girl barely notices them. Instead she sits, alone and sulking, shoulders slouched and ears pinned. Her cold, gold frosted gaze shifts over every arriving figure with little interest, although Valerian briefly steals her attention. She watches, intent and curious, at the loom of utter disdain he gives Claymore, and feels savage satisfaction at the discontent they shared. She wasn't the only one unhappy with their elemental intruders.

She had done little to hide her contempt, that is until the raven queen arrives. Her mother, a dark, shadowy figure that she stiffens at, descends upon her with a sharp nip and a warning glower. Titania shrinks back at it. In her lifetime she knew she would face all sorts beasts, monsters and danger. But one thing she was certain she would never cease to fear and respect, would be Charlotte. As the Rebel sub-alpha moved off, she manages to hang her head and look slightly ashamed, despite the burning remarks that sizzled her tongue. And she is slightly ashamed; not because of what she had said to Claymore (he deserved it, of course. At least in her opinion) but because she hadn't been able to hide her true feelings. Her mask would certainly need readjusting. Still, she allows it to remain away, and keeps her earnest expression planted on her dark features.

When the meeting begins, she is scolded by their alpha. Rykerri's words barely hold any value to her, although she keeps this one thought private. To her, it is only natural that the former Fire beta would stick up for the Storm boy. Elementals stuck together. Rykerri's show of anger only proved to Titania that her only interest in them was due to the sudden departure of their former alpha, whom she had loved dearly. It is only in fear of disappointing her mother that she stays silent, biting her lip and scowling at the ground. At their alpha's words, however, she lifts her regal dome and curls her lips slightly in a sneer. Her tone is cold and lacking emotion as she speaks, words spilling forth. "You asked for our opinion. That is mine".

At this, she snaps her jaws shut and remains silent, intending to speak no more, possibly for the remainder of the meeting. Turning away, she scowls into the distance, ears hugging her skull.

Bjorn did not arrived to the meeting in time to hear the first words of Titania, but by lady Rykerri's speech and the young girl's aggressive voice, the ebony boy ended in conclusion that this was about Claymore. He would not let a single soul speak like that to his loved mate. The warrior raised in his legs, giving a single step forward to Titania, keeping his voice serious and cold, more to a warning with some moral lesson. "Claymore is as much Rebel as you or me. He is my mate and I shall not allow you to speak with him that way. We are no Divine-haters, Titania, we simply bare no gems. Queen Nox is resting in peace thanks to the Gods, and not your... Impetuation." Damn, he said it. Bjorn's very bright orange eyes laid for a single moment in the brother Valerian before he spoke to the young girl. He knew Val had the same thoughts about the divines. He sat once more, by the side of his husband. "We have as much to learn with the elementals as they have with us. A gem in the chest does not make them lower creatures than us. And we are not weaker by the same reason." The ebony boy never had the chanse to say these words to anyone. It was indeed a weight vanishing from his shoulders.

He watches them all, glowering, and his brow furrows in frustration as Charlotte arrives, her first mode of business to chastise her daughter. Acidic eyes stare at the girl, all too aware of the blow to pride that came with a public spanking. The way she hangs her head seems dishonest to him, and he hides the knowing smirk behind a light cough as he shifted; attention turning to their commander as she made her lumbering way to his side. (He ignores the way this bolsters his prideful Valentine heart, knowing that this indomitable woman thought enough of him to give him the time of day, even if they did not agree on all things.) The lanky beast sits a bit taller next to her, head dipping briefly with his show of respect and he notes the tension in her body and the growl on her lips.

Like Bjorn, Valerian, too, ignores his sibling. In fact, the boy would likely proclaim himself an orphan. No family. They all left, and even his Father was nowhere to be seen of late. His eyes dart away from Bjorn's frame, his lips drawing themselves into a stubborn, pursed line as his body tensed. (He is at odds with himself. Valerian loves Bjorn, as surely as he loved Vim, but they all left before they could teach him what "love" was.)

Finally, Rykerri calls the small group to attention, immediately making her side known. Valerian rolls his eyes, holding back the "snerk" that waited on his sarcastic lips. Was Claymore so weak he needed others to step in? If he could not handle a simple insult, what hope did he have to persist on the Ridge? Words alone could not solve this hate. Rebels were beings of action. The Queen worsens his mood by turning her aging gaze on him, and the young teen shifts uncomfortably at Charlotte's side. He doesn't respond, nor does he move, acutely aware of the discomfort that her request left behind. Instead, he tries to focus on her words. He couldn't deny the woman her convictions. She spoke well, despite the fact that she'd been left a mess by the death of her mate. Valerian may have little to think of her, but the least he could do was give respect. She could have left them all (which, he muses, wouldn't have been bad, but definitely would have made him think less of her) but she remained, going so far as to reach out to them.

He'd bite the hand that fed him, but he could still respect it. The boy nods to himself as she speaks, not in agreement with what she said, but with himself. He would hold the malicious demon within him at bay, and give her a chance. With that in mind, their "meeting" is under way. Both Titania and Dismay displayed general distaste for the gods, (and, at Titania's "show", his mangled lips spread wide across his face, his acidic eyes searched for hers in a silent show of solidarity. There were no words, but he knew). Bjorn, of course, took the side of elementals, and Valerian wonders why. Was it merely Claymore, infecting his brother's easily manipulated mind? Or was this, truly, what he was; a god-fearing, god-loving man? He can't help the sweeping feeling of betrayal, of abandonment and distinct loss that occurs in the brief silence after Bjorn speaks.

Valerian hadn't wanted to say anything, but, as he stared at the ground through hooded eyes, his mouth moves without his insistence. "There ain't no question these "gods" exist." His voice comes, but still his eyes remain lowered, "but they ain't gods. Beasts with power, maybe, or maybe somefin' else," he shakes his head in frustration, trying to explain these rampant thoughts in his head. Valerian knew he wasn't the best speaker, but apparently he felt it necessary to say something. (Perhaps he'd have a word with himself later.) "But they 'fink it's fine to do what they did to her;" his head jolts aggressively towards Dismay as he continues, "I say, if them elementals want to be slaves, then let 'em. But I dun want their eyes on me, changin' who I am." Finally, acidic eyes look up, and aim to meet Bjorn's, defiant, a silent snarl on his lips as hackles bristle against his will. "Rebel don't mean warrior. It means wolf. Whatever those elementals are now, it. ain't. wolf."

There, he'd said it. The young teen goes abruptly silent, teeth clipping loudly as he snaps his jaw shut. There would be consequences for his words, he imagined. Whatever. He'd take it.

rating this mature 'cause bjorn got to his nerves. i'll wait for people's replies next time, i swear. xD

rage came to the boy's soul like never before. valerian was such a retarted sometimes. "how dare you." the ebony boy get to his feet, raising tail and hackles raising, low grow but with teeth very exposed, deep soudi coming from isnide his soul. that's it, valerian finally pushed bjorn to his limit. the only thing that is not a wolf here is you, motherfucker!" there is lots of things bjorn can tolerate. spiting such a thing diretcly to his mate was not one of those things. claws crushed againts the ground each strong step of the warrior, approaching the brother with a furious looking locked in the half-brother. he only stoped about a meter from val, warm breath crushing againts the younger brute's face. bjorn was indeed furious. "why you always have to be such a jerk, such a idiot? learn how to talk before saying such a things about claymore, fucker!" maybe now he would give a step too far. in a moment of rage, bjorn would use his left shoulder to push valerian away, roaring like a beast in his face before such an act. "that is why father can't tolarate you! no one tolarate you, valerian, because you have the brain of a worm. this is why you have no family, this is why no one will ever love you!" grow still very loud, not noticing the bullshit he just said. "if you have such a hate for no-wolves, asshole, come and fight me right now. react, valerian! aren't you a valentine? so am i. fight me, fucker. let's see who survives to see tomorrow's sunrise." that's it. the challenge was set. bjorn's jaw droped down, protecting the throat area, while legs separating gave him more balance of the body. this would be the second time he would fight his brother. not brother anymore, only a stupid fool.